Beleg and Túrin
by Raihon
Summary: The story of Beleg and Turin, reinterpreted as a bittersweet romance. Stays close to the Unfinished Tales version of the story. Homoerotic content, but no explicit sex. 2nd place in the 2006 MEFA Romance General category.


**Beleg and Túrin**

By Raihon

Notes: This is a work of fan fiction; no copyright infringement is intended. Several lines of dialogue in this story are taken verbatim from _Unfinished Tales_ and _The Silmarillion_. Thank you to TSH, Kenaz, and Gandalf's Apprentice for helpful feedback.

**I. Beleg and Túrin in the Northern Marches of Doriath**

The blow glanced off his glittering helm and I saw Túrin fall. Before the Orc could again raise his sword, his neck was shot through with a shaft from my bow. I leapt to Túrin's side and found him stunned. No small man was he, yet I lifted him and bore him well away from the skirmish to the riverbank, where I tended his wounds.

I removed his armor, helm and shirt, and marveled again at how his body was marked by many scars, such as we Elves do not bear, whether from two years of battle or two hundred. That day I found fresh wounds on his forearm and across his shoulder, and as I bound them, my heart rent for the fate of Men who suffer so and then pass on as if they had never been. But such was not the fate of this Man, for he was the son of Húrin the Steadfast and though he was just turned twenty years old, all who saw him believed in his greatness.

"No, my friend," I said, applying a damp cloth to his brow. "You will yet be the hero of songs to be sung for many an age."

His youthful face was pale and had an unhealthy cast, and I began to wonder if he were hurt more grievously than I had at first thought. Fear seized my heart, and to my surprise, the hand I laid upon his brow was trembling. I had loved Túrin ever since he was a boy, but of late something else had stirred in my heart, and I knew not what it meant. Now I put aside the damp cloth and looked on Túrin as with new eyes, taking in his grave face and the pale skin of his powerful torso, and I realized that I wished to touch him, to bring him back to wakefulness by means of a kiss from my lips.

"Túrin," I spoke before my hands or lips could run away with my will, "Túrin, will you not wake?"

My shaking hand brushed the hair from his face. "Túrin, my friend, hear my voice."

His lids slowly lifted and he looked at me with unfocused eyes. "Beleg?" he croaked.

I smiled, the fit of tenderness passing from me at last. "You fell from a blow to your head."

"That would explain why my skull throbs and I cannot see straight," Túrin said weakly.

"Do not move for now. Here, drink some water," I said, tilting the skin to his lips. "I must return to the others and see if there is yet an Orc left breathing."

Túrin grasped my arm. "No, please…" he winced and tried to focus his eyes. "Please stay with me."

Again, my heart was stirred in that strange way and my mind quickly thought of a reason to agree to his request. "I will stay, my friend. With such a strong blow to the head, you should not be allowed to sleep just yet. Let me sing to you to keep you awake."

Túrin smiled faintly. "Yes, I would like that."

I clasped his hand in mine and sang to him beautiful songs of the years under the stars before the coming of Morgoth to Middle-earth, and though his eyes were closed in pain, he grasped my hand, rubbing his thumb against mine to let me know he did not sleep. And then as I gazed at him, unable to move my eyes from his noble face, I knew my heart at last and realized the love I bore for my friend would now bind me to his fate. So long as he lived I would never be long parted from his side.

Then I sang to him the song of Orchaltirn, the tree who loved the Elf-maiden Branhen. And only when I was well into the singing did I realize why my heart had chosen this tale to tell:

_Though Branhen wandered leagues away under boughs of other trees  
And met there those of her own kind, of flesh and blood, for whom she cared,  
Orchaltirn loved and waited there to shelter her when she pleased  
And ever longed for those days when time and tender words she spared  
For her friend, who sought to hear of places where he could not go  
And he clung to hope for years that in her heart love yet might grow._

I did not will it, but as I sang these words, I drew Túrin's hand to my lips and pressed them against his flesh. Abashed by my own behavior, I returned Túrin's hand to his side and kept my own in my lap.

Túrin sighed. "What happened then, Beleg?" he asked, his voice quiet, as if from a distance he spoke. "Does Branhen return the love of Orchaltirn?"

To my shame, I was gripped by a longing so strong it nearly stopped my voice. "I do not know," I said at last.

Túrin smiled. "Have you forgotten the rest of the song, Beleg Weakmind?"

"I see you are feeling better," I said, taking a deep breath. I gave Túrin more water and said, "perhaps you would like to try sitting up."

"I would not like to try it, but I think I must," Túrin said.

I placed my arms around him and helped him to sit. Leaving my arm braced behind his back, I asked, "how does that feel?"

"Little worse than lying down," he answered.

Gently I felt around his head for cuts, but only found a large lump where the blow had landed. Túrin hissed in pain as my fingers touched the spot. "I am sorry," I said, my hand lingering to caress his face. "Can you walk? Darkness is falling and we should be on our way."

Túrin turned his face to me, and I could feel his breath on my cheek. "My head is spinning," he said. "Take care that I do not fall."

My heart stopped for a moment, wondering if his words held another meaning. "I will hold you," I said, helping him to his feet, and steadying him with my arm around his waist. He swayed and I gripped him tightly to me, and he threw his arms around my neck. A powerful flame then leapt up inside me and I only knew that I must move apart from Túrin. "Your shirt," I said, slowly moving away. "Let me re-clothe you."

Túrin gained his balance while I dressed him and, with his arm heavy about my shoulders, I led him back to the encampment. As ever I had, I lay by Túrin's side that night. But I could not sleep, afraid of the dreams that sleep might bring, yet tormented even in waking by the fire that had been born in me that day. I could think of nothing but pressing my lips to his, and something in the spring air that evening bade me turn to him and ask, "are you asleep?"

When he did not answer I whispered, "Túrin, my friend, I feared for your life today. Though the span of love for Men is only as long as their lives, I think my love for you will be undying." And then I bent my head over his, and touched my lips to his, and was filled with the sweetest joy I had ever known.

Then Túrin stirred, and parted his lips, and returned my kiss. Startled, I drew back and heard my beloved friend say, "Beleg, I also love you. But do not kiss me thus again."

I lay back, a hole ripped through me where my heart once had been, shame and despair coursing through my veins. I rose to leave and find a bed elsewhere, but Túrin spoke again and said, "pray, do not leave my side, friend."

Though I took my place again at Túrin's side, that night for the first time I cursed the mingling of Elves and Men.

For a while it seemed that nothing had changed between us, but as the days grew longer, Túrin's temper shortened and he began to behave strangely. One day when we were away from the others gathering firewood, I tried to joke with him, saying, "perhaps your time would be better spent taking a good bath in the river. You have become like the wild men of the Eastern woods, woolly and reeking of your own scent."

"Do you not think it suits me?" he sneered, his temper suddenly turning foul.

I contemplated him. "I do not think it suits the heir to the House of Hador."

"That is not your affair, Elf," he snapped. "And in any case, if my appearance is distasteful to you, all the better for me. Perhaps you should not spend so much time with me if I offend your delicate senses."

I closed my eyes and bowed my head so he could not see my face. I had been careful not to speak to him again of my love, or to touch him in any way that betrayed my desire, yet he must have still felt it or he would not have taken such steps to repel me. "Túrin," I said, my heart aching with shame and sorrow, "if you wish me gone, just speak the words."

"Oh, Beleg," Túrin sighed and gave me a gentle shove, "do not be so grave."

More than once in the weeks that followed, I suggested that he should serve under another commander, or at least that he should move his bed elsewhere, but always he would grow angry and refuse, or mock me, saying I bid him to leave because I suffered weakness of the flesh. One hot summer day, my own temper grew short and at last I said to him, "no more, son of Húrin, no more."

He looked up at me, his eyes cold. "No more what, Strongbow?"

I shook my head. "No more of your vicious words."

He smiled defiantly. "How do you plan on stilling my mouth? With a passionate kiss?"

"Do with your mouth as you please, but my ears will no longer be in reach of your words. There are battles to be fought under other commanders. No more will I suffer your presence," I said, my heart breaking and bitter.

Túrin came at me suddenly and pushed me with all his strength, so that I stumbled backward against a tree. "You would truly send me away?" he cried, his eyes fell and frightened. "This is your undying love for me?'

Then he gripped my face in his hands, pressing his forehead against mine, and said in a shaky voice, "it is I who have suffered your presence and the burden of your unwanted love. Can you not see how your desire oppresses me?" He stepped back from me and bent over, his breathing labored. I feared he would be ill.

"Túrin," I said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"No!" he said, shoving my arm away. "You will not send me away," he cried, his voice breaking, "for I will have already fled from your sight. I leave for Menegroth today."

Then Túrin turned his back on me and stalked away. "Farewell," I said, my heart empty, "or fare ill, if that is your fate, child of Men."

**II. Beleg Seeks Túrin the First Time**

At first, Túrin's absence was a relief to me, but my heart could not stay hardened for long and I soon missed my friend, and took little account of my own suffering before he left. When no word of Túrin came to me after a month, I became anxious and sought him at Menegroth. There I learned that the King's advisor, Saeros, had taunted and provoked Túrin into a fell anger, and that Túrin had fled after apparently driving Saeros to his death. I felt that I was in part to blame for Túrin's ill temper, and did all I could to find a way to mitigate the King's judgment on my noble friend.

With scant hope, I sought Nellas, the Elf-maid the Queen had sent to tend Túrin as a child, who had also fallen under Túrin's enchantment and maintained her loving vigilance over him in secret all these years. By the grace of the Valar, Nellas had seen what had really happened. Túrin was returning to me when Saeros' cravenly attacked him from behind. Though she could absolve Túrin of the charge of murder, Nellas feared the King and his halls, and I had to use the power of her love for Túrin to force her to make her report and reverse our beloved's doom. Having done all this, there was yet more I would do and I told my aggrieved King, "by your will, I will seek Túrin until I find him, and I will bring him back to Menegroth, if I can; for I love him also."

Long I searched for Túrin, not knowing what shades of love or hate I might find. But I was driven on by a vow my heart had made, though my lips had never spoken it, to never be long from Túrin's side. After nearly a year, I came upon a Woodman and his daughter who had seen a man of Túrin's description, but they told me this man was running with a band of outlaws, and it was nearly beyond my belief that one so fine as Túrin could have fallen so far. I hunted these Men for many days but when I caught up to them at last, Túrin was not among them, and they tied me hand and foot and questioned me, thinking me a spy.

Such Men I had never seen, nor did I want to ever again! Rough and foul they were, with hungry eyes and slow wits. For two days they left me bound to a tree, without food or drink and then, full of fear and malicious delight, they set upon me to torment and then kill me. Though I was wracked with pain and dread, something in me felt greater ease knowing I would sacrifice my very life to be with my friend. For even a hot brand to flesh could not equal the pain I had already endured for this love, and I was determined not be bested by fear of the threats of wicked men. Yes, in the end, my vow was hard tested, for even if Túrin were to suddenly appear, I knew not how he would greet me.

At last Túrin arrived and, crying out my name, released me from my bonds. I collapsed in his arms and he tended my wounds, returning my earlier kindness to him in full. As I came to my senses, my heart was overflowing, knowing that he was alive and that he welcomed me. Tenderly he kissed my brow and caressed my face, and the full force of my love for him was within me as if we had never been apart.

I hastened to tell him my good tidings from King Thingol. "Túrin, you are forgiven! For a year you have been sought to recall you to honor and to the service of the king. The Dragon-helm has been missed too long," I said, clasping his hand in mine.

To my surprise, Turin showed no joy at this news and indeed, his face grew dark and troubled. "Let this night pass," he said at length. "Then I will choose."

"Choose?" I asked, scarce able to contain my surprise. I looked around the squalid camp. "You would choose this over Menegroth?"

"Rest now," Turin said, leading me to his bed. "We will speak in the morning."

That night in Turin's arms, I swiftly healed of my hurts. When I sat with Turin the next day apart from the others, I repeated all that had happened since his departure from King Thingol's realm, and assured him that the King still considered him his honored son. "Surely now you will return to Doriath?" I said, my heart high with hope.

As before, my beloved found the means to cool my heart. It was as if a shadow were upon him and none of my loving words could he hear or heed. Though I begged him to return with me in every way I knew how, my friend stubbornly clung to his lowered state.

"My heart will not suffer me to go back to Menegroth to bear looks of pity and pardon, as for a wayward boy amended," he said. "I should give pardon, not receive it. And I am a boy no longer, but a man, according to my kind; and a hard man by my fate."

I looked into Túrin's steely eyes and saw the truth in these words. For a while I was silent, in despair of accomplishing what I had set out to do, and seized by a fear that

the Túrin I had known and loved was forever lost to me. "What will you do then?" I asked.

"Fare free," he replied, his voice cold and bitter. "The grace of Thingol will not stretch to receive these companions of my fall, I think; but I will not part with them now, if they do not wish to part with me. I love them in my way, even the worst a little. They are of my own kind."

"Your own kind…" I echoed him. Around my heart a wall went up, and I wondered if my pride did not match his own. For in his words I read a wish to be rid of me and an attachment to his new companions that I could not fathom. But just when the froth of jealousy had filled my mind and I wondered toward which of these brigands my beloved's heart had turned, Túrin said, "above all else, I would have you beside me. Stay with me!" he pled in a voice I recalled from his tender youth.

Such was the way of Túrin with my heart that I was again spun all around and knew not which way to turn. "If I stayed beside you, love would lead me, not wisdom," I muttered bitterly, "my heart warns me that we should return to Doriath."

"Nonetheless, I will not go there," said Túrin.

"Son of Húrin," I said, my desperation growing keen, "I suffered without answer your insults and your anger. Then I gave you forgiveness unasked for and sought you at Menegroth, where I staked my honor and made poor Nellas suffer to plead your case with the King. To bring you glad tidings, I wandered in search of you for nearly a year, and faced perils and humiliation, all for the sake of a hope that...that our life might again be as it once was."

My lungs could not seem to take enough breath, for it now seemed that hope had been in vain and I would have to choose between love and duty. But Túrin had also made a choice, and in that had turned away from me and my people. I could not myself so easily abandon those to whom I owed my allegiance. "A hard man you have called yourself, Túrin. Hard you are, and stubborn. Now the turn is mine. If you wish indeed to have the Strongbow beside you, look for me in Dimbar, for thither shall I return."

Túrin solemnly listened to my words and sat quietly as I spoke to him of the inroads of the Orcs and the need for us in Doriath, but the call of duty did not move him. Instead, he suddenly said, "the Elf-maiden whom you named: I owe her well for her timely witness; yet I cannot recall her. Why did she watch my ways?"

His question broke my heart, for in it I could see my own fate as if written in the sky. I saw that my love was wasted on this selfish Man, and that I was to be forgotten by him, forgotten along with the King and Queen, and all of my kin.

"Túrin, have you lived always with your heart and half your mind far away?" I asked him sadly. "Alas, child of Men! There are other griefs in Middle-earth than yours, and wounds made by no weapons. Indeed, I begin to think that Elves and Men should not meet and meddle."

Túrin looked on me as if I had spoken a riddle, and in disgust for his thick-headedness I left him there, and I was wrought with sorrow.

That night when he lay by my side, he too was distraught, and would not settle down to sleep. "Beleg, my friend, I beg you to stay with me. Why must you go where I cannot follow?"

"It is your choice to follow or not, to bend your will to love or not."

Túrin was silent again a long while. Then he rolled on his side and touched my face with his hand. "I have missed you so," he said, and my heart ached. "I have even missed your covetous gaze, which before I did not welcome." His hand made its way down my neck to my chest, finally resting on my stomach.

My skin flushed and my chest felt tight. I closed my eyes, unwilling to look on him any longer, lest I lose control and force myself on him. "Túrin, stop," I commanded.

"Do you no longer desire me as a lover?" he asked, pulling his hand back. I said nothing. "Things could be different now, if you stayed, if you wished it."

Desire raged inside me but my heart was now closely guarded, and I doubted Túrin's intentions. "You only seek to sway me, but I am no maiden to be bought with promises at night that then vanish in the light of day. Do not toy with me."

"I do seek to sway you, my friend," Túrin said, moving his hand back to my stomach, and slowly moving it downward. "But I make you no promise that I will not keep before morning finds us."

I held still as he firmly caressed me, my whole body tense, neither giving in nor moving away. Túrin moved closer to me, his body nearly on top of mine, and he whispered in my ear, "Beleg, you said it was your turn, and you were right. I will give you what you want now."

"I will not suffer your pity," I said and tried to shove him away, but he was the stronger of us, "and in any event, your sacrifice does not equal mine," I hissed.

Then he was on top of me, and I could feel his arousal. "You are mistaken if you think it is pity that moves me, or that I would consider it a sacrifice to love you with my flesh," Turin said, his voice husky. "I am a man now, Beleg, and I have learned that the needs of a man can be met by a man."

A wall of fire engulfed me, and at last my hands wandered freely on Túrin's flesh, my body felt the heat of him pressed against me, and that night Túrin showed me what the outlaws had taught him of the ways of love between men. I was untutored myself, but I found their lessons wanting. In my passion, ever I sought Túrin's lips with my own, but always I was denied, and I realized that what he was offering me was a mere echo of what I wanted from him. When we moved as one, my spirit soared, seeking him out, calling for him, but he was not there.

The next morning, when Túrin walked with me away from the camp, I was not surprised when he put the burden of our love again on me, bidding me to seek him out on Amon Rûdh, lest this be our last farewell. I left him then with words of friendship. However, of the two of us, only I knew that I could not long endure without him, and I secretly hoped that he was left despairing of ever seeing Beleg Cúthalion again.

**III. Beleg seeks Túrin a Second Time**

As I returned to Doriath, I thought, "Beleg, the torment of your flesh is now eased, but the torment of your heart has just begun." But in truth, my heart was never again so tormented as it had been the day before I left Túrin, and in place of torment I gradually felt a blissful acceptance grow. We Elven-kind are not like Men; we give our hearts forever to the one we choose. I came to see that I had now joined myself to this foolish Man for all the ages of Arda, whether his heart loved me half or fully, whether he desired or spurned me, whether he remembered or forgot me, while he lived and ever after he died. My path was now clear: I would return and follow Túrin to whatever end, and so doing would be my delight. If Túrin's spirit could not hear my call or would not heed it, I would fill the emptiness with the song of my love. All this I knew by the time I reached the borders of Thingol's Kingdom, and by then I repented the cruel wishes I had left with Túrin.

In the woods I was met by Nellas, and I told her that Túrin lived, though in an abased state. Suddenly, she fled from me and lodged herself high in a tree, weeping bitter tears. "Beleg has the heart of fair Túrin in his keeping now, and there is no hope for poor Nellas!" she cried.

I answered her, "hope I cannot give you, but in this much you are mistaken: it is Túrin who has laid claim to Beleg's heart, while Túrin's own heart remains free."

"Nonetheless," Nellas said, calming herself, "I feel the shadow of Túrin passes from me now. I will never see him again."

At Menegroth, all noticed the change in me, and most guessed the cause, but none save King Thingol and Queen Melian smiled upon me or bade me speak loving words of Túrin, for what I had done was incomprehensible to any that had not loved beyond their own kind.

When I told him of Túrin's decision not to return to Doriath, King Thingol sighed and asked, "what more would Túrin have me do?"

I did not know how to answer the King and I anxiously contemplated how I might find an honorable way to leave his service and return to Túrin. "Give me leave, Lord," I said bluntly, "and I will guard him and guide him as I may."

Thingol nodded and smiled knowingly, and I felt greatly reassured that he would not see me as weak for following my heart. "You have my leave to do as you will, Beleg Cúthalion," Thingol said. "For many deeds you have earned my thanks, but not the least is the love you bear for my fosterson. At this parting ask for any gift, and I will not deny it to you."

I asked for a sword of worth and the King offered me Anglachel, a great sword indeed, but the Queen saw it and said, "there is malice in this sword. The dark heart of the smith still dwells in it. It will not love the hand it serves; neither will it abide with you long."

Having sealed my fate already to a mortal, I no longer thought of my future beyond the day I returned to Túrin's side, and I answered, "nonetheless I will wield it while I may." And wield it I did, and I wielded it well that year in the northern marches, slaying many Orcs and fulfilling my last duties to King Thingol before again seeking Túrin on Amon Rûdh.

When I came upon Túrin and his men unawares, they leapt to their feet in fear and I laughed, though not with malice. A great joy had overtaken me upon seeing the gladness on Túrin's face when I revealed myself and I was filled with mirth.

"Túrin, son of Húrin," I said, holding out his dragon helm. "I present you with an heirloom of your house. Will you not now return with me to Doriath and fight for King Thingol, your foster father?"

Túrin's face fell. "Is that why you have returned, my friend? To ask me again to do that which I will not do? And when I refuse, as I must, will you again depart and leave me with no hope of seeing you ever again?"

My heart grew tender and my jovial mood left me. "Nay, that is not why I am here," I said handing him the helm. He took it and looked at me questioningly. "I would be glad if your pride had abated and you would now return with me to Doriath, but if that is not our fate, I will fight with you here, and the servants of Morgoth will flee in fear when they see that the Helm and the Bow have risen again against all hope."

At that, Túrin cast down the helm and embraced me with both arms, and buried his face in my shoulder, saying, "Beleg, Beleg, my dearest friend. Indeed, against all hope, you have not abandoned me."

Then Túrin showed me the caves where they dwelled, and led me deep into a dark passage, where he took me in his arms again, whispering, "after we parted…Beleg, I thought you had left me for good. Now, you are here and…I do not know…"

Longing to at last feel his breath on my tongue, I gripped his head in my hands and pressed my mouth to his, but his mouth would not yield. Then I tried gently kissing his taut lips, but he again refused me.

"Túrin," I moaned in despair, "my love, why will you not kiss me?"

"Beleg, listen to me. I am not like you. I wish one day to love a woman, and marry, and give her children. I am not a lover of men!"

I was stunned for a moment, for it was he who had led me to this dark place apart from the others, and it was he who had embraced me, muttering words of desire. "I do not understand what you mean when you call me a lover of men," I said, wishing I could see his face. "I love no man but you. You, however - you have known no woman, and have lain with more than one man. Does this not make you a lover of men, or do you not love any that you have lain with? Do you not love me?"

"Love is not why men lay with men," Túrin said tersely.

There was an ugliness to those words that ran me through, but I knew that for him they were not wholly true. I tried to gentle him by saying, "love alone is why I wish to lay with you. Love is why I want to fight by your side every day, and hold you in my arms every night. Is that not what you also want?"

Túrin was silent a while. "It is," he said at last.

I pressed closer to him, and ran my fingers over his face and neck, hoping I could make him know his own heart. "When you are with another, do you not wish he were me?" I asked in a low tone.

"I have not wished to be with any other since…since you left," he said softly.

My face was so close to his that our lips would have touched had he but turned his head an inch towards me. He did not, and I would not test him again. "You do not deny that you love me. So what, then, does it mean that you refuse me the touch of your lips to mine?" I asked. When Túrin did not reply, I took a swift step away from him and said, "either you lie to me or you deceive yourself. Stubborn, foolish Man! Your life in Arda is short, yet you put away your happiness today in hope of tomorrow."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, strengthening my resolve. "I tell you now that I have come, never again to leave your side. I will serve you, and love you, and comfort you, but know this: I do these things only as your friend. If I partook in the pleasure of your flesh, it would only remind me what I yet lack. I do not want you as a lover if you will only give me part of your love - and the base and brutish part, at that."

After that, Túrin brooded, and I kept to my word. At night I would take him in my arms, but I did not move to touch him as I had before. Being Elfkind, this was easier for me than it was for Túrin, whose body was less obedient to his will. Yet he did not ask me to find another bed, nor did he seek another who would submit to his rough needs; he simply waited until he thought me asleep to give himself release. I knew he sometimes thought of me while he did so, for I heard him whisper my name, and I could not comprehend why he willed himself to suffer thus. However, I did not suffer, for I did not wait or hold out hope for something other than what I had. I was content to be Túrin's friend and constant companion.

The day before we were to leave Amon Rûdh and make our presence felt again among our enemies, Túrin's heart was high. It was a very warm spring day, so after readying our weapons and supplies, we made our way to the river. I rejoiced to see my friend's mood, for Túrin was as he had been when he was a youth: solemn but curious, stopping to listen to the calls of birds, pinching the leaves off plants to see how they smelled.

As we lay on the riverbank letting the sun dry our skin after our swim, I turned to Túrin, who looked glorious: luminous and glistening in the afternoon light. He lay with his hands clasped behind his head and his eyes were closed, yet he stirred under my loving gaze. "Beleg," he said, and his voice was as sweet to me as the scent of spring flowers on the air that day.

When Túrin became gentle like this, I would again feel moved to give myself to him, but I was in no haste to break my own heart, so I just let the desire flow over me like the river had minutes before.

"Beleg?" he said, this time pleading a little.

I slowly shook my head. "I would give you everything," I said slowly, softly, my soul burning for him.

He sighed. "But you ask for everything in return."

"And why should I not?"

Túrin's brow furrowed and he said very quietly, as if to himself, "it is not my fate."

Every moment I was with him was a gift; I was grateful even for my longing, for it was all part of the song of my love. But Túrin could never seem to hold on to his joy for long and it made me sad to see him suffer. "Túrin, my love," I said, placing my cool hand on his warm shoulder, "shall I sing to you?" As I softly sang of the joy of the Eldar upon seeing the first rising of the moon, Túrin drifted off to sleep and I beheld his face looking peaceful again.

During the days that followed, Túrin and I fought valiantly against the enemy, and we won renown for our victories throughout all the kingdoms of Elves and Men. I took my place as a healer among Túrin's men, and in time, came to understand the love and loyalty Túrin bore for them. But between Mîm the Petty-dwarf and myself, there was neither love nor fellowship, and I never overcame my mistrust of the master of the halls in which we dwelled on Amon Rûdh.

**IV. Beleg's Last Search for Túrin**

One dark day, Mîm indeed betrayed us to the servants of Morgoth and the blood of his guests darkly stained the wicked Dwarf's land. As he passed through the destruction his perfidy had wrought, Mîm stumbled upon me, barely alive, and thought to finish me with my own blade. I regained my sword and as I drove him off, I gave my remaining strength to claim Túrin's name as my own, crying after the coward, "the vengeance of the house of Hador will find you yet!"

For a day and a night, I lay unmoving under cover of the sky, regaining my strength. Battered and bleeding as I was, I could barely tend to my own wounds, let alone minister to those around me. When at last I could rise and see to the others, it was already too late: all Túrin's men had been slain. Yet as I searched the bodies, my heart rent with grief and my mind wild with fear, I found him not among the dead and I felt sure that Túrin yet lived, and had been taken captive to Angband.

For just one moment, I asked myself: shall I find him yet again, or is he lost to me as if he were dead? No! my heart answered: just as Fingon set forth alone into the darkness, so, too shall I search for my Maedhros and, if the Valar aid me, I will see him delivered from Morgoth's torments.

I set out northwards, tracking the Orcs through Dimbar and into the woods of Taur-nu-Fuin, and because I refused to take nourishment or rest, I swiftly gained on them. Day and night I pressed on without stopping, but even when weary, little escapes a tracker's attention. Perhaps it was a scent or a sound, but something drew my attention from the Orc trail and in the gloom, I spotted a figure curled up in the shelter of a dead tree. I turned from the path to find the body of a sleeping Elf who looked as if his spirit yet clung to his body by naught but a thread. I woke him and gave him some lembas and asked him how he came to be in this evil land.

His voice was like a whisper of wind in the trees. "I am Gwindor, son of Guilin," he said, "I was taken after the Battle of Unnumbered Tears and enslaved in Angband, but now I have escaped."

Grief captured my heart as I looked on this Elf who had once been among Nargothrond's bravest and most noble warriors, now but a bent and fearful shadow of his former shape and mood. "It is a wonder to behold you again, my Lord," I said, bowing my head. "I am Beleg of Doriath."

Gwindor raised his bloodshot eyes to me and regarded me as if bewildered. "Beleg Cúthalion?" he asked, shaking his head slightly. "You are only the second strangest thing I have seen this day. Perhaps I am dreaming after all."

My aching muscles tensed as I asked him, "My Lord, what was the strangest thing you have seen today?"

Gwindor raised himself to a seated position and took another bite of lembas before replying. "A party of Orcs and wolves, and among them a Man. Very tall, he was, dark and proud even as he stumbled under the blows of their lashes. I hid myself as they passed by not long before sunset."

Gwindor's words wrenched my heart. "That Man is Túrin, son of Húrin the Steadfast, and he is my…" My tongue was stopped, for what might I tell Gwindor that he could bear to hear? Even my own people did not understand what this Man was to me, and Gwindor was fragile enough without being delivered a blow by the truth I would tell him. And so I said to him, "Túrin is my friend and I have been charged by King Thingol to look after him, for he is as a son to the King."

Gwindor began to tremble, but some color came to his cheek. "Your loyalty is admirable, but if you follow this Man, you will only succeed in joining him in the anguish that awaits him."

"Then anguish I will soon know, for I will not abandon him," I said, fighting despair. Gwindor could not know that Túrin's torments were already upon me, and every moment that passed drawing hope from Túrin's noble heart also wounded my own.

Gwindor motioned for me to help him rise, and after he steadied himself on his feet, his eyes blazed at me with emotions that I could not fathom. "Are you blind, Beleg? I am standing before you and yet you do not see what awaits you if you follow this path. You will not succeed. You will be captured, enslaved, tormented. You will become as I am, and you will…you will lose everything," he said, his voice breaking.

My heart filled with pity and I steadied Gwindor with a hand to his bony shoulder. "I must do this," I told him gently.

Gwindor's look went from disbelief to derision, but then I felt his body relax under my hand and I saw that his eyes brimmed with tears. "In such a short time, I have forgotten so much. Loyalty, selflessness, compassion – these things are not to be found in the pits of Angband. In that place, one starts to believe they don't exist at all, that greed and hatred have taken hold of the world." The frail Elf then slid an arm around my waist and said, "if you will help me walk, Beleg, I will come with you and do what I can to help you."

I was stunned by his words and knew not if he were terribly brave or simply deranged by fear and hardship. "My Lord, nothing binds you to this doom! Why would you risk your hard-gained freedom?"

Gwindor's gaze drifted south and he said, "so that I may know that I have not lost everything."

And so this most noble Elf went with me to the encampment where the sleeping Orcs lay about in disarray, drenched in the sweat of their debauchery. He kept watch while my arrows found each of the sentry wolves, and guarded me as we crept into the camp, where we found my beloved limply hanging by his wrists from a tree trunk, lost in a sleep of great weariness. Gwindor helped me cut Túrin's bonds and we bore the Man as far as we could away from the camp. But a great wind arose from an approaching storm, slowing our steps and too soon, Gwindor's strength failed him, and he quailed as lightning flashed and thunder shook us in our bones.

I hurried to finish loosing Túrin's feet from their bonds so that we might swiftly flee, for the Orcs were sure to be awakened by the storm swiftly bearing down upon us. But alas, I was careless in my haste, and the accursed blade that King Thingol had called a gift pierced my Túrin's flesh. I know not how he found the strength, but, thinking himself confronted by one of his tormentors, he leapt to his feet and wrested the blade from my hands.

In the darkness, mistaking for a foe the one who loved him best in all of Arda, Túrin ran me through with my own sword. When I fell, the lighting flashed again and he could see the one he slew. His eyes met mine and he dropped to his knees at my side without a word. At last, Túrin pressed his lips to mine, tenderly at first, then with great passion, and I felt the sweetness of his true nature pouring forth from those lips, the fullness of his love bestowed by his gentle tongue, and from my beloved's own mouth, I drew my last breath. Then I passed into the Halls of Mandos and there I remain, filled for all the ages with the joy of my love.

**Author's Notes**

Here are my thoughts on sexuality among Elves, which are nothing more than the rules I have worked out for my own fictional universe, and I am quite happy that other people write about Elf sexuality in other ways.

In this story I take the premise that some Elves, like some Men, have a sexual preference for their own sex, or do not strongly prefer one sex over the other. However, I have decided to make this preference non-problematic in Elf culture (or at least for the Elves of Doriath) on the theory that much of the stigma on diversity of sexual activity in human cultures comes from the difficulty Men have controlling their sexual impulses, leading to the need for human societies to more strictly regulate the bounds of acceptable sexuality.

As the story of Túrin in _The Silmarillion_ makes clear, the outlaws Túrin falls in with definitely engage in socially unacceptable sexual practices (e.g. heterosexual rape) and in my story, it is implicit that they also have sexual relations with each other. Túrin's attitude in this story, however, reflects the culture of a broader human society, to which Túrin plans to return, where such sexual activity is supposed to be clearly delineated from love and marriage. Most of the tension in my story comes from Túrin's anxiety about where this line is drawn.

This idea about the relative freedom of the Elves from the regulation of sexual norms stems from another premise, based on canon (_The History of the Peoples of Middle Earth_): that Elves are consciously aware that they are composed of a spirit (fëa) which their body (hroa) houses for a time. Because of that separation, Elves are much more capable than Men in ruling their bodies with their wills. This does not mean that their hroas don't experience lustful impulses, but that it is much easier for them to choose not to act on these feelings if they are not in accord with the needs of their fëa. It is clear that many an Elf has brought ruin upon himself and his kin because his fëa lusted for something, but when it comes to the needs of the flesh (warmth, food, rest, etc. as well as sex), Elves are continent, as Tolkein put it.

In my universe, I assume that most of the time, Elves are not having casual sex with each other (thereby explaining Beleg's lack of experience), not just because they are "continent," but also because the physical act of love is fraught with significance for them. This is another canonical premise, which is that for Elves, sex can lead to a spiritual bond which is permanent and monogamous. Perhaps every sexual joining makes the fëa vulnerable, and that is why rape is so devastating to an Elf. However, in my reading of this bit of _Laws and Customs of the Eldar_, it is not that the sex act alone transforms the fëa, but rather that the act of sexual joining offers Elves the choice of joining spiritually as well. In this story, I emphasize the importance of this element of choice by focusing on the consequences of Beleg's choice to join with Túrin, even though the spiritual union is never consummated. Because what is important to Beleg is the choice he made, not the spiritual union itself, it makes his heroic love something to which we mere mortals can also aspire.


End file.
